


the edge of tomorrow

by Arbryna



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: Angst, F/F, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-04-19
Packaged: 2017-12-06 04:01:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arbryna/pseuds/Arbryna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small series of loosely related one-shots, written toward the end of season 3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-3x08. Tamsin's not too sure of anything right now.

_"Please tell me she's not the one."_

The cards flutter around her feet like some morbid joke, each one emblazoned with the same image. The Wanderer. 

"Okay, I get it." Tamsin tosses the crumpled card from her hand, glaring up at the heavens as though it will do any good. "A simple 'no' would have been good enough."

All the scowling in the world can't fight back the panic rising in the back of her throat. What this means--for her, for Bo--is all too clear, and she's not in any way prepared to handle it. This has never been so hard before; but then, she can't remember the last time she actually let her mark mean something to her. 

Her truck is just a few steps away, and by all rights Tamsin should get in and go home--or at least, to the temporary apartment she's calling home right now, with its empty walls and lack of warmth. For all that Bo's place is a crumbling shithole, it's definitely got more character than Tamsin's.

She should just get in the damn truck. Bo's pet doctor will no doubt be home soon, and she has no desire to involve herself in that drama-fest. Let Bo have her twisted idea of fun while she can.

Who knows how much longer she'll have?

Screw it. There's no way she can get in the truck right now. She turns around almost without thinking about it, stalking back into the Ash's compound even though it's the last place a Dark fae should ever want to go. 

Before Tamsin can fully process what she's doing, Lauren's door is looming before her. She's running on adrenaline--and a little bit of fear that she will never, _ever_ admit to--so she hardly thinks twice before knocking, a little too rapidly to be casual.

"Babe? You forget your keys?" Bo's voice is muffled, as are her footsteps, and then the door swings open. "Tamsin." Her surprise is obvious, but there's something else more complicated that flashes through her eyes, affection and guilt and confusion all at once. With a brief shake of her head and an artificially easy smile, the flash is gone as quickly as it came. "What's up?"

 _I needed to see you_ , is the only answer that comes to mind, and there's no way in hell Tamsin is saying _that_. Bo is just standing there awkwardly, like she's all too aware of the space between them; her brow gets tighter with every passing moment, and if Tamsin doesn't stop gaping like damn fish she's going to have a lot of explaining to do--painful, humiliating explaning. 

So rather than fumble with the fundamentals of the English language, Tamsin lunges at Bo, sinking her fingers into dark hair as she puts all of those things she can't say into the press of her lips, the swipe of her tongue. 

It takes a second or so for Bo to respond, though not as long as it took in Brazenwood. Maybe she saw it coming, or maybe it's just less of a surprise this time around, but Bo's hands are more confident this time, sliding around Tamsin's waist and tugging her closer. 

This is no fleeting celebratory kiss; it's hungry, and frantic, and Tamsin doesn't let up as she backs Bo into the apartment. Bo lets out a surprised squeak as Tamsin slams the door behind them only to shove Bo up against it. 

Pressed as close as they are, Tamsin can feel the faint thud of Bo's heart against her chest; tangible proof that Bo is still here, still alive, still free. She doesn't know how much longer that will be the case; if Tamsin doesn't deliver Bo, someone else will be sent. No matter how Tamsin may try to fight it--if she can even muster the balls to fight at all--Bo is going to be taken. 

If she can stay like this, keep them both here in this moment, then they'll never have to face the future that's rapidly approaching.

It's Bo that stops it, gentle pressure on Tamsin's hips putting a measure of distance between them as they both relearn how to breathe. In one striking flash of clarity, it hits Tamsin what she's just done, and all of the awkwardness and uncertainty catches up to her all at once. She wants to run, to escape the look in Bo's eyes that seems to see into all of her dark corners. She tries to, slipping her hands out of Bo's hair to pull away completely, but Bo's fingers wrap around her wrists to hold her in place. 

"I can't," is what Bo says, her voice soft and breathy. "Not here, not-not like this. I have to-I have to talk to Lauren." 

There's a yearning in Bo's eyes, something more dangerous and complex than lust; Tamsin feels it mirrored in her own chest, and it scares the shit out of her. "Right," she says with a little nod of understanding--as if she understands anything about this. 

"There is a _lot_ going on right now," Bo says gently, her hands sliding down Tamsin's forearms to rest in the crooks of her elbows. "A lot I have to figure out." She pauses long enough to move one hand to the side of Tamsin's face, forcing the eye contact Tamsin has been avoiding. A small smile tugs at her lips. "It's not a 'no'." 

"Of course," Tamsin replies, nodding dumbly. She's not sure what a "yes" would entail, or if she even wants it. She's not sure of a whole lot right now. Her hands feel awkward and sweaty against Bo's skin; this time when she tugs, Bo lets her pull away. Turning away and putting some distance between them makes it a little easier to think, to reclaim a bit of the detached snark that she wears like armor. "I, uh, I should go." 

Bo nods like she understands a lot more than Tamsin would like. She steps away from the door, pulls it open. "I'll see ya 'round," she says. "Drive safe." 

The way she says it, it's like she actually _cares_ \--and despite centuries of experience telling her otherwise, Tamsin's pretty sure it's not a front. In the short time she's known the succubus, Bo has challenged damn near all of her carefully built preconceptions. 

"Sure thing, Mom," Tamsin replies with a smirk, brushing past Bo into the hallway. It's easier by far to dismiss it as a joke. 

"Tamsin," Bo calls out before she can get too far away. Tamsin tightens her brow, schooling her expression as she turns back. "I really do appreciate your help today," Bo continues, and her smile is so sincere and heartfelt that Tamsin actually believes it. "Thank you for looking out for me." 

It cuts deep, a stabbing pain in Tamsin's chest rising up in her throat. _If you only knew..._ But she's had plenty of practice concealing her emotions, and what Bo sees is a smirk, a casual shrug. "Whatever," she says. "You could have handled yourself just fine without me."

There's a fondness in Bo's exasperated smile, the affectionate roll of her eyes as she rests her head against the door frame. Tamsin wants to drink it in, to commit every detail to memory; chances are, she'll never see Bo look at her like this again. Instead, she forces herself to turn around. With every step, she pulls her armor tighter around herself. 

Bo's Dawning will take place any day now. When she makes it through--because she _will_ make it, of that Tamsin has no doubt--she will face an even greater challenge, one Tamsin wishes more than anything that she could prevent.

Whatever happens, Tamsin knows one thing: this is one mark she can't deliver.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post 3x09. Bo takes a walk, and doesn't get very far.

Bo stops just outside in the alley, closing her eyes as she leans against the wall and breathes in deep lungfuls of fresh air. She never thought she would think of the Dal as suffocating, but after everything that's happened today she just needs to be somewhere else. Besides, when she was inside, all she could do was replay the scene over and over; Dyson's lifeless body in her arms, the wounded look on Lauren's face after Bo revived him. 

She's going to have to deal with that--Lauren, Dyson, the whole situation. She loves Dyson--has always loved him--but he's so damn pigheaded sometimes that it drives her nuts. And Lauren...Lauren is everything Bo could want in a lover, except for that teeny little problem where she can never be everything Bo _needs_. She loves them both, and they both love her, and she can't imagine losing either one of them.

Then there's Tamsin, and Bo doesn't even know where to start with that. Lauren never replied to any of her messages, so she hasn't had a chance to even broach the subject; not to mention she's still not entirely clear on what Tamsin wants, or what those kisses meant. Hell, Bo's not even sure what _she_ wants. 

Ugh. Choosing _supremely_ sucks.

"Guess I should have made that bet after all." When Bo's eyes snap open, Tamsin is propped against the opposite wall, arms crossed over her chest like she's waiting for something. Bo, maybe. She pushes off of the wall and saunters over to stand just a few steps away. Her expression gives nothing away, but there's a flash of something that almost looks like worry in her eyes. "Looks like you're all in one piece."

"Did you expect anything less?" Bo banters back, quirking an eyebrow. 

"Nah," Tamsin replies with a shrug. "I knew you'd make it, remember?" 

Bo smiles. It's true; Tamsin was the only one to be straight with her about how bad the Dawning could be, but she also never looked at Bo with that expression of badly-disguised fear and dread. "Well, you were right," Bo says simply. "It was...hard. In a way I never expected. But I made it through, thanks to Dyson. And you." 

Tamsin frowns skeptically. "Um, sweetie, I don't know if you're still scrambled from the Dawning or what, but I wasn't there." 

"You were, actually," Bo counters. "You gave me some pretty important hints. Took me forever to figure them out--" She narrows her eyes as Tamsin scoffs. "--but it's because of you that I was able to get Dyson out of there." 

It still hurts, the memory of pushing the dagger into Dyson's chest, the sight of his blood on her hands. She can still feel the crushing despair of knowing that he was dead, that she killed him--but she can also remember the hope that blossomed in her chest, warm and comforting, as she thought of Tamsin's unnaturally chipper face, the blood that stained her fingers as she trimmed the flowers off of that hedge. Okay, it was weird, but she doesn't know if she'd have realized how to save Dyson without it. 

The silence drags on a little too long to be comfortable, and Tamsin shifts awkwardly on her feet. "Figures Wolfboy would pull the self-sacrifice card." She winces a little, and Bo remembers how pale she got when the Wanderer card showed up the other day. Another unanswered question. "He's been a lovesick little puppy for you for as long as I've known him."

"Yeah," Bo says with a little sigh, rubbing at the bridge of her nose. "I still don't know if I can forgive him for being such a macho jerk, but I couldn't let him die before I got the chance to kick his ass." 

Tamsin laughs. "That's my girl."

Bo's smile returns in full force; she's not Tamsin's girl, not really, but there's a giddy little flutter in her stomach at the thought that she might want to be--that Tamsin might want her to be. She gives her head a soft shake; now isn't the time, not with everything else she still has to figure out. "How long have you been out here?" she asks, as the thought occurs to her.

"Don't get excited, Hotpants." Tamsin holds up her hands, that casual not-quite-smirk on her lips. "I was in the neighborhood."

"You could have come inside," Bo points out. 

"Eh, it looked a little crowded." Tamsin shrugs, looks away. 

She still doesn't think she belongs. Bo will have to do something about that. "Hey, everyone's pretty beat right now. Lauren's still busy making sure Dyson's okay, and I could probably use a week-long nap, but we're all getting together at the Dal tomorrow, to celebrate." She suddenly feels nervous, like a teenager asking a girl out for the first time. "You should come."

Tamsin's eyebrow shoots up, and for a split second it's clear Bo's caught her off guard. "I'd say your dance card is pretty full as it is."There's a mixture of hope and disappointment in Tamsin's voice, lurking beneath the thick layer of sarcasm. 

"As my _friend_ , Tamsin," Bo says with a knowing smile. She reaches out to rest her hand on Tamsin's shoulder, feeling the warmth of her body beneath the leather jacket. Her smile fades as her voice turns serious. "Whatever else happens--or doesn't happen--between us, you're a good person. Someone I'm proud to have on my side."

The bitter scoff that escapes Tamsin's lips can't cover the flash of pain in her eyes. "You wouldn't say that if you really knew me." 

"Only one way to find out," Bo points out, squeezing Tamsin's arm before letting her hand fall back to her side. "You should come," she repeats.

She still needs that walk--maybe more now, after seeing Tamsin--so Bo slips out from between Tamsin and the wall, heading out toward the city streets. Before she gets too far, she catches a soft murmur in Tamsin's voice. 

"Maybe I will." 

Bo grins as warmth floods her chest. She's still just as confused as before, but somehow she's less bothered by it. She passed her Dawning; she's alive, and not some gross Underfae, and she's got all the time in the world to figure everything else out. 

Whatever the outcome might be, it's bound to be anything but boring.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post 3x10. Tamsin has guilt, and Bo confronts her about what she did.

She didn't think it would hurt this much.

Guilt is clawing at her chest, while grief for Acacia--her mother, damnit, she was never supposed to think of her that way but that's what she _was_ \--swells in her throat. It feels like she's being ripped apart, pulled in two opposing directions. Whichever way she ends up falling, she'll have lost something precious, and literally the only thing keeping her going right now is her base instinct for survival. 

Tamsin wants nothing more than to turn around; to go back into Bo's place, and take the wine and companionship that was offered. She knows she'll never have a chance like that again, not after she delivers the bottle now clenched between white-knuckled fingers. Not after she delivers Bo. 

But if she goes back inside, if she gives in to this weakness, this desire to just spend the evening getting drunk and listening to Bo mourn the loss of her relationship--and it's ridiculous, really; when has Tamsin ever _wanted_ to do a dumbass thing like that?--she knows that she'll end up doing something even stupider. Confess the truth, or throw herself at Bo again--something that will inevitably get her killed. 

Just like Acacia. 

A sob catches in her throat as she yanks open the door to her truck. As much as she'd like to think she has a choice in this, the box that's sitting at home waiting for her to deal with it tells another all-too-clear story. Her only choice is whether to live or die. 

She's always been kinda fond of living.

***

At first, Bo thought it was nothing. She'd spent days on end crying her eyes out and getting drunk with Kenzi; she was bound to be a little rundown.

Then the dizzy spells started. They'd come without warning, even when she hadn't had a drink yet, when there was no logical reason for it. Finally Kenzi dragged her to the Dal, only to find that Trick had about as much idea as they did. Maybe she was coming down from the massive high her Dawning had given her, or maybe she really was just heartsick.

She drew the line when Trick suggested she go see Lauren for a checkup. She couldn't deal with that, not right now. Not after...

Lauren needs space. Bo isn't about to reneg on her promise already; if she’s going to have any hope of fixing things between them, she has to stay away while Lauren figures stuff out. Whatever this is, she can handle it.

Thinking about Lauren, though, directed her thoughts to the last time she'd seen Tamsin. The odd, out-of-character hug, the over-the-top sympathy for a breakup--no, a _break_ , not a breakup--that she'd been sure Tamsin would be jumping for joy about. 

The sharp pain as her hair was ripped out, the feeble excuse Tamsin gave about getting her hand caught. She didn't even want to consider it--she still doesn't--but all the signs point to one thing.

Tamsin did something to her. 

She doesn't know why, or what it would achieve. Tamsin hasn't been after her about that Dark fae she thinks Bo attacked for weeks; hell, she's even been _helping_ Bo, becoming something like a friend--or, well, not quite a friend, if those kisses are anything to go by. It could have all been part of her plan, but Bo likes to think she can read people better than Tamsin thinks; whatever Tamsin's ulterior motives, there was something between them, some kind of connection that can't have been faked.

Which is why Bo is here. She hasn't been to Tamsin's apartment before, but Dyson gave up the address easily enough; it was convincing him to stay behind that was the hard part. 

Well, one of the hard parts. 

"Unless you’ve got a fresh bottle of Stoli, you can get the hell--" The door flings open, and Tamsin freezes mid-sentence. "Bo." Her voice is casual, but in a shaky, forced kind of way. 

She looks terrible. Her hair is pulled back in a tangled mess of a ponytail, and the circles under her eyes make it look like she hasn’t slept in weeks. Bo assumes alcohol has something to do with that; even a foot or so away, she can smell it sharp on Tamsin’s breath.

For a moment, Bo almost forgets why she came; she sees her friend in bad shape and all she wants to do is rush in and take care of her. She has to remind herself of what Tamsin has done—seeing her like this leaves little doubt that Tamsin is behind whatever this weird affliction is. She flashes a smile instead, bright with a hint of an edge. "Hey _Tams_ , gonna invite me in?" 

Tamsin is apprehensive as she opens the door wider to wave Bo inside. Bo pushes away from the door frame, only to stumble as she's hit with another wave of dizziness. The only thing that keeps her from falling on her face is Tamsin's quick reflexes; she catches Bo, slips an arm around her back and helps her to a dingy couch that has definitely seen better days. 

Once Bo is situated on her corner of the couch, Tamsin is careful to set herself on the extreme opposite end. "Someone been partying a little too hard?" 

"Yeah, I've been feeling really weak," Bo says, raising an eyebrow as she pins Tamsin with her gaze. This would be a lot easier if she didn't feel so damn helpless. "You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?" 

Panic flits through Tamsin's eyes, almost too fast to be seen. Almost. She shakes her head, laughs a little. She's caught and she knows it. "I don't see your guard dog. He waiting outside to take me down or something?"

"No, I came alone."

"And here I thought you were smart." 

It takes far more effort than Bo wants to admit to shift and turn her body toward Tamsin. The icy edge of her voice warms a little as she observes how uneasy Tamsin looks. "I wanted to give you a chance to tell me the truth."

Tamsin scoffs. "Why would you believe anything I said?"

"Because I trust you." As ridiculous and probably unwise as it is, it's the truth. Tamsin has made a habit of being up front with Bo when she didn't need to be; Bo is confident that she'll be honest now. Well, pretty confident. 

From the look on Tamsin's face, it's the last thing she wants to hear. Her lips are pressed tightly together, and Bo's almost certain there are tears welling in her eyes. "You shouldn't," she forces out. 

"Tamsin--" Bo stops and sways a little as another dizzy spell hits her. When she recovers, she can see a flicker of honest worry in Tamsin's eyes. "Look, whatever it is, whatever is going on, we can figure it out, okay?"

"It's not that easy," Tamsin chokes out, shaking her head. "You don't know--"

Tamsin's arm is stretched out across the back of the couch; it might look casual if her hand wasn't clenched into a fist. Bo reaches out, tentatively covers it with her own. "So tell me."

"I-I can't." Tamsin yanks her hand back, crossing her arms over her chest as she gets up and starts to pace. "Bo, you should just...stay away from me. I'm...not good for you."

"You don't get to make that choice for me." Bo wants to get up, to reach out and try to comfort Tamsin, to reassure her, but she knows that the second she tries she'll end up a crumpled heap on the floor. The dizziness is getting worse. "I meant what I said before--you're my friend. And I don't abandon my friends."

Tamsin looks back at her, and the look on her face is so haunted, so conflicted, that Bo's heart breaks a little for her. "I'm no one's friend." 

Bo smiles and shrugs. "That's up to you." 

Seconds tick by as conflict rages in Tamsin's eyes. Eventually it gives way to resignation, and her shoulders sag as she starts to pace. It comes spilling out of her in fits and starts: the Wanderer, her job, her mother. The druid's curse, which explains the weakness and dizzy spells. 

When it's over, Bo doesn't know how to feel. Tamsin has lied to her, and betrayed her; she's gone behind Bo's back to collect hairs from her loved ones, from her, all to put this curse on her. At the same time, Tamsin has hesitated; she's tried to protect Bo, and put herself and the people she cares about in danger to do so. Bo doesn't know whether to be outraged or grateful. 

"So, you hate me now, right?" Tamsin asks flippantly, smirking down at Bo. "Wanna kick my ass? I gotta tell you, with the state you're in, it's not going to be much of a fight." 

The facade is so transparent that Bo wonders why she ever thought Tamsin was really that cold. All it takes is that one flicker of doubt that sparkles momentarily in Tamsin's eyes, and suddenly it's not so hard to know how to feel after all. Bo reaches out, just catching Tamsin's hand. 

"I'm here," Bo says softly. "Alone, and weak. We could already be on our way to your boss, but we're not. Because you don't want to hurt me."

Tamsin's expression twists, and she shuts her eyes tight like she's fighting back tears. "I don't have a choice." 

Bo holds onto her hand, squeezes gently until Tamsin's eyes slide open again. Despite her words, there’s a tiny glimmer of hope amidst the desperation. "There's always a choice."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bo and Tamsin have sought sanctuary at the Dal. Now, left alone for the night, Tamsin helps Bo in the only way she can.

This is a bad idea.

She’s not going to bring Bo in—that ship has sailed—but letting Bo drag her to the Dal is another story. Well actually, Tamsin did most of the dragging, with the state Bo’s in, but this certainly wouldn’t have been her first choice of destination. She could always leave, she supposes, but Bo kinda has a point about the waystation being neutral ground. It’s safer here than anywhere else Tamsin can think of; not that anywhere is safe from _him_.

Still, it’s not exactly comfortable coming in and playing house with Bo and her friends. Tamsin’s not an idiot; she saw the murderous glares when she walked in practically carrying Bo, and despite their pathetic efforts at secrecy—seriously, sending her to the other side of the same room does _not_ privacy make—she heard the hushed arguments all revolving around her presence. At least Dyson _tried_ to be calm and reasonable; Kenzi put banshees to shame with how shrill she got, and in the end refused to stay anywhere near the same vicinity as “that evil, backstabbing valkybitch”. Dyson ended up letting Kenzi stay with him, since her connection to Bo makes it dangerous for her to be anywhere on her own. 

Humans are so fragile and helpless. Tamsin would wonder what Bo even sees in them if she wasn’t preoccupied with more important matters. 

Like, for instance, the fact that she’s having a sleepover at Bo’s granddaddy’s place, and he made it clear that he was going to bed and wouldn't be out again until morning. That leaves just her and Bo, alone together in Trick's cozy little living room with no one and nothing to distract them from everything hanging between them.

"So, you wanna rochambeau for the good couch?" Bo asks, holding her blanket and pillow to her chest.

“Please,” Tamsin scoffs as she starts shoving books off of the chaise longue. “I can’t even begin to list the ways your little posse would make me hurt if I made their precious succulette sleep on anything less than the best.” She runs a pointed glance down Bo’s body swaying uneasily on the arm of the sofa; she’s trying to make it look casual, but Tamsin’s the one who dragged her ass in here—she knows better. “Especially with the condition you’re in.” 

“I’m fine,” Bo retorts, sliding—and sort of falling—into a sitting position on the couch instead. “Between the two of us, I’d say you need it more. You look like you haven’t slept for a week.” 

"You sure know how to flatter a girl," Tamsin quips, trying to ignore the honest concern in Bo’s eyes. She doesn’t deserve it. “How _do_ you keep them off of you without a stick?” 

Bo doesn’t dignify that with a response, just smiles and shakes her head. “I was just trying to be fair,” she says with a shrug. Carefully, she pushes herself to her feet and starts to lay out her bedding as she speaks. “But if you want to give up the nice, comfy couch, I won’t arg—whoa.”

Tamsin is at Bo’s side in an instant, catching her before she loses her balance completely. Bo sags against her, offering no resistance as Tamsin lowers them both down onto the couch.

“Yeah, you’re fine, all right,” Tamsin says dryly. Bo’s shoulder and stomach are warm under her hands; Tamsin pulls away quickly, curling in on herself to resist the urge to continue the contact. 

“Well, I didn’t say I was _great_ ,” Bo shoots back. The grateful smile on her lips isn’t quite enough to distract from the weakness weighing down her every movement.

Something occurs to Tamsin then; she doesn’t have the right to even _think_ it, let alone suggest it, but if it will help…

“When was the last time you fed?”

The borderline guilty look on Bo’s face is all it takes to confirm Tamsin’s suspicions. “I’ve been kinda preoccupied,” Bo admits, looking down at her hands. “Haven’t exactly been in the mood.” 

“A succubus not in the mood for sex.” Tamsin quirks an eyebrow, amused in spite of the situation. “Now I really have seen everything.”

“Ha ha.” Bo rolls her eyes. “Why does it matter to you, anyway? What, are you offering?”

She says it like it’s a joke, like it can’t possibly be serious, but they both know otherwise. There’s no way Bo’s forgotten about the kiss in Brazenwood, or the encore at Lauren’s apartment. For her part, when she hasn’t been tearing herself apart with guilt over her assignment, Tamsin has thought of little else. 

Tamsin gives her best attempt at a casual shrug, hoping that Bo can’t tell that her heart is damn near pounding out of her chest. "I'm the one who got you into this mess, it's the least I can do." She drags her eyes over Bo--reclining against the back of the couch, head tilted up so the line of her throat slides seamlessly into the hollow of her collarbone, down into the shadow of cleavage so generously displayed by her low-cut shirt. "Besides, I don't usually need much of a reason to get down and dirty with a hot piece like yourself."

Bo laughs, and the gentle shake of her chest is enough to make Tamsin’s mouth go dry. Tamsin forces her eyes back up to Bo’s face, where she’s met with an amused smirk and a raised eyebrow. "Are you always such a romantic?" Bo teases.

“What can I say?” Tamsin says with another shrug, offering Bo a smirk of her own. “You bring it out in me.”

They can banter all they like, but the question still hasn’t been answered. It makes sense, Tamsin knows it and so does Bo—she’s here, and willing, and Bo is weak. Tamsin doesn’t know if feeding will actually help—the druid was very thorough, after all, and the curse was pretty damn personalized—but she’s pretty sure it can’t hurt. When her boss makes his next move, Bo is going to need any advantage she can get.

With a labored sigh, Bo pushes herself forward, resting a tentative hand on Tamsin’s shoulder. “You know, I could find someone else to feed from. I don’t need you to sleep with me because you think you owe me something.” 

Tamsin can’t help but laugh, shaking her head a little before meeting Bo’s gaze. “Wow, you really do suck at reading people.” 

Bo leans closer, close enough that her breath is warm and moist against Tamsin’s lips. Her eyes are dark, and the subtle tug of her mouth says that maybe she’s not quite as clueless as Tamsin thinks. “Enlighten me.”

It’s a dare if Tamsin’s ever heard one—and she’s never been one to back down from a dare. Sparks pop and ignite in her stomach as she closes the last breath of distance between them. Her smirk melts against Bo’s mouth, and for a moment she forgets that she’s doing this to prove a point—which, come to think of it, probably only serves to prove that point even better. She recovers quickly though, and reaches up to slide her hand behind Bo’s neck as she deepens the kiss. 

Then Bo pulls away, and Tamsin feels that pull again—the one she's only felt once before (even if it feels like more than that). It reaches deep into her chest, draws out her chi and leaves her feeling warm and empty at the same time. It's a curious sensation, one that made her uncomfortable last time Bo fed from her; the contradiction of feeling happy and content while simultaneously _wanting_ more desperately than she's ever felt before. 

When the feeling subsides, Tamsin draws back just enough to catch the fading blue glow in Bo’s eyes. Bo is far from a hundred percent, but a hint of color is returning to her cheeks, and when she reaches to pull Tamsin back in, she does so with a little more strength than before.

Soon Tamsin finds herself pressed against the back of the couch, Bo’s solid weight on her lap and fingers tangling in blonde hair on either side of her head. Her own hands find purchase on Bo’s hips, gripping tight as Bo grinds down into her. It doesn’t take much to slip her hands under the soft silk of Bo’s shirt to press against the softer heat of skin, to drag her fingernails along the small of Bo’s back when Bo begins to feed again. 

This time when Bo cuts off the flow of chi she leans back, reaching for the hem of her shirt as Tamsin sags into the couch. The more she experiences Bo’s feeding, the more Tamsin knows she could never get enough. It’s easy to see why a succubus’ victims die with a smile on their face.

Bo struggles with pulling her shirt over her head, and as distracted as Tamsin is, she doesn’t realize until too late that Bo is losing her balance. “Shit,” Tamsin swears, grasping at Bo, but she only succeeds in landing them both in a heap on the floor. 

Tamsin slips off to one side of Bo, propping herself up on an elbow to allow Bo to breathe. She always planned to end up on top, but she hadn’t quite pictured it this way. “Smooth,” she cracks.

In response, Bo starts to laugh, sheepishly pressing her face into Tamsin’s shoulder. “I just want you to know,” she says seriously when she pulls back to meet Tamsin’s eyes, “that this is not an accurate representation of my skills.”

“Gotcha.” Tamsin nods. A smirk tugs at her lips. “When it comes time to write my tell-all book about all the dirty little secrets of succu-lovin’, I’ll be sure not to hold this against you.”

Bo rolls her eyes, smiles, pushes at Tamsin’s shoulder. It’s so _easy_ , so much more intimate than Tamsin was intending when she brought this up. This is supposed to be about making Bo strong, about making up for weakening her in the first place. It’s not supposed to be about the soft look in warm brown eyes, or the fond curve of parted lips swollen from Tamsin’s kisses. 

Shit, this is _such_ a bad idea.

Backing down isn’t an option, though, so Tamsin opts to direct the mood back to simpler things. She leans down until her lips are a breath away from Bo’s, lowers her voice to a sultry husk as her fingertips skim over Bo’s ribs. “I might hold something else against you, though.” 

It may not be the cleverest thing she’s ever said, but it has the desired effect. Bo surges up to close the meager distance between them, one hand sliding around the back of Tamsin’s neck while the other settles on her hip. 

Tamsin tugs at Bo’s lower lip with her teeth, presses her thigh into the heat between Bo’s legs. She can’t help the smirk that springs to her lips at the strangled groan that catches in Bo’s throat, but her smugness is premature; brown eyes flash a brilliant blue, and then Bo is feeding again while the hand on Tamsin’s hip slides up under her shirt. 

Bo’s touch is warm, electric, and Tamsin knows it’s more than just the right kind of contact; she always figured bagging a succubus had to be pretty incredible, but this is beyond what she could have imagined. Heat spreads out from Bo’s fingertips, races under her skin, and if she wasn’t already painfully turned on, this would definitely do the trick. 

It’s not until she feels fingers slipping under her bra that Tamsin realizes Bo has unhooked it. Bo works her hand between the material and Tamsin’s skin, palming her breast as she stops feeding in order to crash their mouths together once more. It’s good, so good, but it’s not nearly enough; Bo breathes a frustrated grunt into Tamsin’s mouth as she tries to move her hand beneath the fabric, struggling for more contact. 

The frustration is contagious, and soon Tamsin sits back on her heels, yanking the shirt over her head and tossing it and her bra aside. Bo follows her up, hand closing over one breast while her mouth covers the other. Tamsin moans, tossing her head back as Bo’s teeth tug at a hardened nipple. Her hands jump to Bo’s shoulders, clutching tight to hold herself steady. 

When Bo pulls back, her breath cool against damp flesh, Tamsin forces her head forward again. Bo’s eyes are glowing bright blue, and her teeth are bared in an almost feral grin, and Tamsin groans as the warmth from Bo’s fingertips pulses from her waist to settle between her legs. Her thighs tremble around Bo’s hips, and if Bo doesn’t touch her— _really_ touch her—soon, it feels like she might combust.

Before Tamsin can ponder when she became the needy one, Bo shifts her weight, rolling them until her body is pressing Tamsin’s into the carpet. Tamsin is almost indignant about being so easily topped, but then Bo sways uneasily, quickly bracing herself with an unsteady hand just in time to keep from knocking the breath out of Tamsin’s lungs. 

“Whoa, Succubabe,” Tamsin says, placing her own hands at Bo’s shoulders to stabilize her. “I think we can skip the acrobatic stuff this time.”

 _This time._ The words slip from her lips without a thought, and only too late does Tamsin realize the implication. She’s not an idiot—she knows damn well she’s lucky to get this much from Bo. Hell, she’s lucky to be alive, really; a night of what is already the best sex she’s ever had is more than she has the right to ask. A “next time” has to be out of the question. Doesn’t it?

Except that while Bo initially looks stunned, her mouth curves up quickly enough, teeth catching her lower lip in a way that makes Tamsin drop her head back against the floor and groan. “You got it, Detective,” Bo murmurs in a low voice, close enough that her breath rushes warm over Tamsin’s ear. “We’ll get right to the good stuff.”

Bo settles to one side, one leg slung over Tamsin’s as her fingers trail from Tamsin’s shoulder down over her abdomen. Her mouth drifts along Tamsin’s throat, hot tongue and sharp teeth sending jolts of desire down Tamsin’s spine. Just when Tamsin starts to think she’s forgotten how to breathe, Bo’s fingertips slide under the waistband of her pants, blunt nails scraping along the edge of her underwear. 

“Fuck, Bo,” Tamsin gasps as her hips jerk into the touch. 

With a chuckle, Bo pulls back, smirking as she pops open the button of Tamsin’s pants. “Pretty sure that’s what I’m doing,” she shoots back. 

If she were in any way thinking clearly, Tamsin would totally have a comeback for that. As it is, Bo’s mojo has rendered her incapable of much thought beyond what Bo’s hands are doing—and what she wants them to do. She wiggles her hips, helping Bo shove her pants and underwear down her legs, until finally she’s able to kick them off. 

As Tamsin falls back against the carpet, Bo wastes no time in sliding her hand up the inside of a bare thigh, pressing Tamsin’s legs apart as her own knee settles between them. Propping herself up on her other elbow, Bo drags her fingertips around the edges of Tamsin’s sex. When a strangled whine catches in Tamsin’s throat, Bo takes pity on her and dips her fingers between slick, swollen lips. 

The glow in Bo’s eyes intensifies as she pushes inside, and she lunges down to catch Tamsin’s mouth in a hungry kiss. All Tamsin can do is arch into each thrust, clutch aimlessly at the carpet, at Bo’s hips, gasp and moan into Bo’s mouth. As the pleasure rises to nearly unbearable levels, Bo breaks the kiss and starts feeding again. 

It’s as though Bo is driving her right up to the edge, then siphoning just enough chi to keep her from going over. Tamsin’s entire body thrums with need, every nerve ending crackling with desire, and just when she thinks she’ll go crazy if it lasts a second longer, Bo’s fingers curl inside her and she’s hurtling over the edge. 

When Tamsin opens her eyes, Bo’s have returned to their usual warm brown. She’s panting almost as hard as Tamsin is, and her cheeks are flushed with a healthy glow. 

“Damn, Succubus,” Tamsin gets out between breaths, “you are good at that.” 

Bo smiles, sated and a little bit smug. “I certainly hope so,” she says, sliding her fingers out of Tamsin and dragging them up teasingly before pulling away completely. A shudder tears through Tamsin’s still-quaking body at the touch. “God,” Bo sighs, rolling away onto her back, “I can’t get over how good you taste.” 

The silence between them grows tense as the throbbing in Tamsin’s body subsides. “Well, you look pretty refreshed,” Tamsin says, sparing a quick glance back at Bo, “and I’m running kinda low now, so we should probably try to get some sleep.” 

Before Tamsin can push herself up to find her clothes, however, Bo catches her arm. “Stay,” she says softly. When Tamsin looks back again, Bo has a different kind of hunger in her eyes. It’s not the primal, animal hunger that flashes in them when she needs to feed; it’s desire, need almost, for things Tamsin isn’t ready to put a name to, even in her head. It’s tempting to give in, to let Bo wrap herself around Tamsin and feel her alive and solid and real. 

But she doesn’t deserve it. She doesn’t deserve Bo’s mercy, or even pity, let alone whatever it is Bo might be offering now. “I don't think Gramps wants to see this much of either of us,” Tamsin says dryly, letting Bo’s hand fall from her skin as she rises to her feet. 

Bo sighs. “I guess we should make ourselves a little more decent,” she concedes. 

Tamsin makes quick work of finding her clothes and tugging them back on, deftly avoiding Bo’s gaze as she settles onto the chaise. Behind her, she can hear Bo walking across the room to turn out the lights, then the soft creaking of the couch as Bo sinks onto her own makeshift bed. 

Long moments pass in silence, and Tamsin almost thinks Bo has fallen asleep when her voice rings out in the darkness.

“Tamsin?” 

“What now, Hotpants?” Tamsin asks, trying to keep her voice even as her heart pounds anxiously in her chest.

“We’ll get through this.” 

When Bo says it, Tamsin almost believes her.

_end._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so it might possibly be bitchy to leave it there. Thing is, I have trouble seeing where to go from here, since the show sorta went in a different direction and we still don't know what's up with Bo's daddy and all. I'll have better luck trying my hand at new projects that mesh with what we actually know of the show, so I'm afraid you'll have to use your imaginations. If it helps, I totally picture them beating the pants off of whatever comes after them, and eventually coming to terms with their feelings and being epically in love and living happily fae-ever after. As much as possible, anyway, until the next big battle or issue comes up ;)


End file.
